Vignettes
by Kaara
Summary: She's the type to swan dive right into danger. Various/Ino. (Ch 4: "Don't worry. I went easy on you, sweetcheeks." KibaIno.)
1. dreamcatcher (shikaino)

**disclaimer: **i own nothing. just words upon words of what-could-have-beens.

**note: **i love writing drabbles. i love writing ino. this is a recipe for unmitigated disaster, of course.

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**one. dreamcatcher **; _nara shikamaru/yamanaka ino_.

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She comes back at impossible hours in the morning. Sometimes a redhead, sometimes a brunette, but never a blonde (because blonde is too close to home; blonde is her father's shadowed eyes, Naruto's endless, naive enthusiasm, the sunlight to her shroud of shadows). Her body speaks in foreign languages for each skin she wears and he finds himself sharing a bed with a runaway heiress, an erstwhile shrine maiden, a mute who spins lovesongs in intricate handsigns. Each as different, as unique as something real. She has always been the best at play-pretends, even as a child (and he remembers the day she enacts a stage of _I-Am-In-Love-With-You_ and he falls for real, for the way she laughs over his faux-distaste and how she carves out his heart with smiles as sharp as her fingernails). She slips into multitude of roles like she has done this for several lifetimes (more skinwalker than mindwalker at this point, to her father's dismay) and he is bright enough to know she's deconstructing whatever left of her, one minuscule detail at a time, to make each shred of lies more true than truths. She is a perfectionist and Konoha always wants the best. He learns to live with her (_for_ her). He learns to let her linger in his apartment after missions, touching and rearranging his properties as she finds her own skin. Sometimes, it takes her days to be Yamanaka Ino again.

He wonders how long it takes for her to remember who he is.

"I know you."

He makes her tea. He tucks away the scrolls he borrows from her father under the kitchen sink because he likes to pretend that they're okay, that this is okay. He itches for a cigarette but he knows she doesn't like the smell. Once, he smokes and she cries, whispers a name in between tears from memories she has forgotten to remember. He stops smoking then. "Yeah?"

She nods, quiet and wistful. "From a long time ago. Centuries, maybe."

"We're not that old."

She looks puzzled for a second and he watches her unfolds herself from the couch, ivory skin stretched taut over brittle bones. She pauses to move a picture frame a few inches to the left (Chuunin graduation and everyone is smiling and happy and _alive_). "But I know you?"

"Maybe."

She sits on a chair beside him and tangles her legs with his. Her toes brush the underside of his calf. "Who are you?"

He thinks, _"Someone who has loved you for centuries."_

He says, "I'm nobody."

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**end**


	2. it's okay (shikaino)

**disclaimer: **i own nothing. just words upon words of what-could-have-beens.

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**two. it's okay (it's just a flesh wound) **; _nara shikamaru/yamanaka ino_.

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Shikamaru knew about the _special missions_ Ino were sent to. He knew because his father knew. Her father knew too but they didn't talk about it because Ino didn't talk about it. It took him years to realise that Ino used her smiles like some kind of a weapon and a shield all at once. Get too close and she would cut you up. Get too close and she hid behind the smile, out of reach. There was this one time when he was young and dumb and idealistic (and sort-of-maybe in love with the way she said his name) that he expressed his disapproval about those missions.

She smiled but said nothing and he didn't see her for two weeks.

His father had looked disappointed and her father accepted his offer of apology with something like suppressed homicidal intent. Shikamaru steered clear of the flowershop and kept his silence whenever Chouji wondered why their teammate had pulled the disappearing act. Ino came back more radiant (and ridiculously thinner; he didn't know that was even possible) and she smiled at him with that weapon-and-shield smile she wore so well. He could only think about the little girl who made flower crowns for the fawns in his family's backyard.

"Why does it have to be you?"

She stared at him, her smile faltered under the weight of his scrutiny and she was heartbreakingly lovely for that mili-second. He thought he sort-of-maybe could fall in love with her all over again if she gave him the chance to. But then she touched his cheek gently, quietly and she wasn't smiling for once. He saw the shield crack, just a little bit, and she said, "If it's not me, who else?"

Ino had always been the martyr type. Shikamaru knew that too and she wouldn't stop until there was nothing left in her to sacrifice. It was both beautiful and tragic and he wanted to say '_anyone but you_'. He didn't because they were Konoha's and Konoha needed the brand of beautiful-and-tragic that only people like her could offer. She had always been the martyr type and she had always been the best at it.

He kissed the corner of her lips and told her _it's okay, come home to me_.

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**end**


	3. collateral damage (naruinokiba)

**disclaimer: **i own nothing. just words upon words of what-could-have-beens.

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**three. collateral damage **; _uzumaki naruto__/yamanaka ino/inuzuka kiba_.

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"15!"

"21, asshole! Beat that!"

Ino sighs and slams a kunai into the throat of a Sound ninja closest to her, carefully avoids the blood spray even as she calculates the amount of damage her new vessel can take before she needs to find another one. She soothes the mind under her control, a brief flutter of confusion and terror at her intrusion that quiets down as she sinks deeper into his psyche. He resists for a few seconds, valiant even when she knows he is to bend to her wills (they all do, in the end). The body she wears is huge and bulky, with a different centre of gravity and she flexes unfamiliar muscles, tests the strength behind it and checks his equipments. It's like trying on a new dress that doesn't fit quite right, not really. Ino decides that it's adequate for her purpose and moves forward, blending in with the rest of the opposition surging against Naruto and Kiba. Who are still counting bodies and arguing with each other.

_Idiots_.

_We can hear you!_ comes the indignant chorus, thrumming from the mindlink between them.

Ino watches appreciatively as Kiba tag-teams Akamaru, fangs and claws ripping apart a group of unfortunate ninja in their way. Naruto conjures more Shadow Clones and dispatches anyone stupid enough to charge at him, a whirl of black-and-orange that divides and conquers with the efficiency of natural disasters. They have always been the powerhouses, with inherent speciality in rampant destruction and blatant disregard for finesse. They're perfect for her cover. Ino gives the two a wide berth and, once she's right in the middle of the last dregs of the Sound ninja, triggers the enhanced explosion tags she has plastered all over her vessel. The pain flares bright and instantaneous, mind registering neural signals from receptors and she slips inside her own body in time to watch the firework from a safe distance away. Ino can still feel phantom heat of skin and bones collapsing into flames, the type of residual effect that comes with the quick-withdraw of her possession technique.

She ambles over to where Naruto and Kiba are waiting once she collects herself, and grins at their matching disgruntled expression. "Give or take 50. You owe me ramen, losers."

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**end**


	4. down for the count (kibaino)

**disclaimer:** i own nothing. just words upon words of what-could-have-beens.

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**four. down for the count** ; _inuzuka kiba/yamanaka ino_.

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"Hi!"

Kiba lowered his fist and blinked sweat from his eyes, wondered if the cheerful greeting in unmistakably feminine voice was directed at him or if he'd somehow developed schizophrenia from getting punched too many times in the face. He peered around him, decided to go with schizophrenia and felt mildly worried about his mental health.

And then got even more worried because _what the hell. Why would the voice inside my head sound like a chick?_

He was about to resume his tête-à-tête with the punching bag when someone cleared _her_ throat loudly and deliberately behind him. He took a moment to be thankful for the fact that he's not heading towards being batshit crazy and turned around, a scowl plastered all over his place. Man, he just wanted to practise in peace so that he can beat up Naruto next time—

—hold on a minute.

_What a babe_.

"I was wondering," she started, voice light and cheerful and just a touch of flirty. Her body language pretty much read '_come hither_' and he could appreciate a girl who knew how to work her magic. "If you can help me train."

Kiba's mouth curled into a smirk. "Train?"

She sighed dramatically, took a step closer and his nose picked up something sweet and coy underneath the light musk of sweat. And he had to stifle an embarrassingly insistent urge to bury his nose between the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and just breathe her in. "Yeah. You see, my partner had an emergency back home so he bailed on me. Something about an all-you-can eat ramen buffet thing. So now I'm out of a sparring partner."

Kiba glanced at his punching bag, that looked increasingly unattractive and then at the girl. His choice was obvious. "Sounds like a tragedy, leavin' a pretty thing like you alone. Yeah, sure. Why not."

Her smile was bright and instantaneous, and he allowed her to lead him to the mats at the other side of the gym. Even though he could find his way around the place blindfolded, the view from behind was as good as it was from the front. Because _damn_. Lily-white skin and trim waist, toned ass and long, shapely legs; she's a knockout. She's the kind of girl he would pick up in a bar, show her how to have a good time a dozen times over. He snapped out of his perverse study of her physique when she stood before him, a respectable distance and bowed.

"Name's Ino," she offered, ponytail swaying behind her when she moved into a loose starting position.

Kiba nodded back distractedly as he eyed her rather impressive rack. "Kiba, nice ta' meet'cha." He recovered enough to grin cockily at her and added, "Don't worry, sweetcheeks. I'll go easy on ya."

Her eyes flash with something dark and unreadable for a second, and Kiba's survival instinct flared up out of nowhere. Something along the way of 'run' and 'now'. and Kiba, following the tradition of a lifetime, decided to ignore it. Especially since whatever it was in her eyes seemed like a fluke; she was once again smiling benignly at him from the across the mats. _Just a tiny slip of a girl, chill out, bro_. And against his better judgement, Kiba did the universal 'come at me' swag move, full on Bruce Lee mode.

He felt invincible.

Which lasted about five seconds because Ino moved through his defense like a fucking eel and her uppercut stung like an electric fucking eel (which Kiba had the misfortune of knowing first-hand). None of that butterfly and bee bullshit. He was jarred out of balance from the unexpected assault, Ino's left leg arched around his calves before his body could jerk itself into action and she swiped his legs from under him.

Five fucking seconds.

Kiba found himself blinking at the ceiling. The black dots in his vision were soon replaced by the ever-smiling face of Ino, who doesn't look so benign and flirty any more. She tilted her head to a side, batted her eyelashes at him and said, "Don't worry. I went easy on you, _sweetcheeks_."

She gave his chest a pat, flashed him another beatific smile and sauntered off, giving him the perfect view of her ass.

Kiba tongued blood from his split lips and decided that _shit, I'm in love_.

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**end**


End file.
